Storytime

The boy is learning the bones in the body. He forgot his book at school (of course) and asks me what he should do. I tell him he needs a diagram and then explain it is an illustration that helps you understand something. We find him one and the day goes on and in the afternoon I am getting frustrated because I can't get blogger to allow me to upload photos. The boy asks, "what's wrong" and I tell him I can't figure out to get Rob to do what I want and the boy says, "maybe you need a diaphragm". Maybe?

The boy says his tummy hurts and wants to know what he should do. I tell him I don't know I'm not a doctor. Later, he asks me how to say one of the names of the bones he is studying and I tell him, I don't know, I'm not a doctor. Then, a cousin of mine shows up and asks me again to explain all the Robert Pattinson posters on the walls when the boy pipes up, "she can't explain it you, she's no doctor". Does this imply that I am crazy or the cousin? Never mind, I don't think I want to know.

The boy has a favorite new game it's called "hide and jump out screaming and scare the fuck out of Auntie". I was in the shower the other day and finished, I pulled the curtain back and there's the boy screaming, "boo". I fall out the shower and while falling I accidentally hit the boy. Sis gets mad and yells at me, says I hit him on purpose. I did not hit him on purpose, when I do I'm gonna own that shit and by the way, how old am I? Never mind. Let's move on. So as much the boy may deserved to be hit, I did not hit an 8 year old boy. I eat his mom's last candy bar and put the wrapper in his lunch box. That's right. Mess with me.